


like the bough of a willow tree

by orphan_account



Series: how many edelgrid fics i can fit inside the lyrics of hozier songs [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Character Study, F/F, First Kiss, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-23 22:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21327631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ingrid knows all about her duty. Most days it's all she can think about, the letters by her bedside a bitter reminder of what's ahead in her future.Now though, she's surrounded by the glittering lights of a ballroom. There is a gloved hand and soft, violet eyes turned towards her in a silent offering. And even if it's only for one night, Ingrid forgets.
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Series: how many edelgrid fics i can fit inside the lyrics of hozier songs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537528
Comments: 8
Kudos: 115





	like the bough of a willow tree

**Author's Note:**

> literally my first f/f fic but the world must know ingrid is lesbian
> 
> ALSO it is literally almost 3am i will look into this fic later when i have the braincells to read it again and notice mistakes

Ingrid is six and already knows all her letters. 

At night she politely refuses her older brothers' attempt to read her a story, hovers her fingers diligently over the familiar script as she waits for them to leave her bedroom dejected, one at a time. Ingrid doesn't allow herself to feel guilty, doesn't even feel the need to as she mouths along at the difficult long words, memory helpfully chiming in where her reading skills falter. 

"Loog, the King of Lions, with his silver lance and mane of gold. Kyphon, his most trusted ally, the sharpness of his blade not enough to hide the kindness in his heart." Ingrid pronounces every word with all of the seriousness of a small child who finds something of great importance. She takes care not to touch the paper more than necessary, hardcover book laid open on her pillow and candles kept lit so long only after much bargaining.

Ingrid herself is lying on her belly, right arm supporting her head as the left one rests next to the book and awaits the moment to flip the pages. In place of Loog she thinks of Prince Dimitri, the fragile looking boy who she met a few months ago, who she saw break five training lances before he was taken away, crying. And Ingrid thinks of King Lambert, a man who never visits her house but somehow is still a name that never leaves her father's mouth. 

Ingrid turns her attention back to her book. 

"At last, flying on her mighty steed, is a maiden most peculiar. Her long hair falls down her shoulders like water, lips curving up serene and full with secrets." Ingrid pauses then, taking in the artfully painted illustration of a Falcon Knight that her mind dreamily registers as pretty, placed right under the curled bottom of an 'S'. The bright red hair reminds Ingrid of an older boy who'd teased her last year "for the way your face settles on a frown when it's resting", though the Maiden's hair is much longer and, in Ingrid's opinion, softer, shinier, and better smelling as well. 

It is only the demure smile, however, or perhaps the set of downcast eyes that feels out of place on the Maiden's otherwise perfect figure. After all, Ingrid knows this story like she knows the names of the Moons. There is nothing that would suggest something so… submissive in her gaze, although Ingrid still lacks the vocabulary to express herself as such. Instead it just fills her with a sense of wrongness, and she can't help but quickly move ahead, finger sliding page after page until Ingrid finds what she was unconsciously looking for, almost at the near end of the novel.

"The Maiden does not bow down to the King, for her spirit is free as the Wind. Still she thanks them both, King and Blade, Loog and Kyphon, Lion and Pride. She departs from them as she would any other man, her eyes already looking ahead towards a new dawn." 

It is here that Ingrid closes the book, satisfied as she blows out the candles on her bedside table. Her Maiden of Wind is brave and beautiful, able to fly away on her pure white pegasus to the rescue of those in danger. 

Ingrid vehemently ignores the final chapter, where the Maiden marries Loog and becomes the first Queen of Faerghus. She ignores the memories from earlier that day, when her father broke her the news of an engagement to House Fraudarius. 

Her Maiden of Wind is brave and beautiful.

She is free.

* * *

Ingrid is twelve and she wonders if this is love.

She's had a long time to get to know her future husband by now. Glenn is four years older than her, a year older than Sylvain, already a knight. He likes picking fights, "to test himself against strong opponents". His tongue is as sharp as the Fraudarius of legend, although Ingrid has less and less time to visit old books as of late. And she's never heard any stories about Kyphon making a younger brother cry because of a careless cruelty. 

But Glenn is a knight. 

Ingrid knows her fixation on this detail borders on unusual, she knows that surely there is more to Glenn than training and battle. But when it's just the two of them left in the Training Grounds, when Ingrid is nothing but the lance knocking against his blade, when her body is panting with exhaustion and her mind is still high on adrenaline, there is nothing she wants him to be more but her partner. 

Ingrid wants Glenn. She wants him by her side while she fights against an army. She wants him with his blood soaked grin, as he figures out a more efficient way to cut their way through the enemy. She wants him like she wants a knight.

Ingrid wants Glenn, wants him, wants to be him.

And isn't that love?

* * *

Ingrid is thirteen and Glenn burns along with most of the royal family. 

She hates. Ingrid cries like she can't remember crying most of her life. It's ugly and it hurts and she hates. She hates Duscur for taking away Glenn. She hates Glenn for taking away her future. She hates herself for being so weak.

A month passes and her father comes to her with a new marriage proposal. Her being with Glenn was a promise made upon Ingrid's birth, but there is no oath about a second chance with the second son. She'll have to settle for a non Fraudarius. 

He says it like it's a disappointment, but Ingrid can't help the sigh of relief from somewhere deep inside her soul. Felix, for all his talk of the dead staying dead, has no problems remaking himself into the spirit of Glenn. Ingrid won't say anything but it hurts to even look at him, Felix frown a perfect mirror of his older brother's.

Ingrid can't help but wonder at all the times she'd caught him staring at their training sessions, an odd look in his eyes. 

It takes a while longer to process the rest of her father's words and its implications. Ingrid had spent the last seven years learning to love Glenn, the idea of Glenn, his perfect example of knighthood if not of personhood. Now she was to be paraded around strangers, like a specially bred mare that would be somehow useful to their stables. 

Ingrid wants to refuse. She wants to lash out, to say it's too early or too late. But Ingrid stops. She thinks of all the sacrifices her father has made for her sake, be them big or small, and she swallows down all the bitter truths begging to spill from her mouth. 

She smiles instead. It is a demure thing, and her eyes are downcast as she murmurs her agreement. Ingrid can't help but think her face must look strange. None of this fits her. 

Still Ingrid smiles. Her lips curve up and her throat is filled to the brim with bitter secrets.

* * *

Ingrid is seventeen and she knows her duty. 

Most days it's all she can think about, the letters by her bedside a bitter reminder of what's ahead in her future. They come again and again, distant but somewhat pleasant requests about her time at the monastery. And time and time again, there is the same question at the end, rewritten in what feels like a million different ways but still meaning the same thing.

_ Have you managed to find yourself a husband yet? _

Ingrid has started to destroy the letters without even reading them lately. It is incredibly bad behavior for someone like herself. The Professor had caught Ingrid at it twice already, one time without really noticing and the other ending with an attempt to drag Ingrid's whole life story together with an explanation for her actions. But Ingrid has had a lot practice in hiding things others shouldn't concern themselves with, and she won't spill her secrets so soon. Ingrid ignores how she is self aware enough to almost admit she'll cave in eventually. 

She focuses her attention on the gloved hand extended towards her instead.

The warm lights of the ballroom torches reflect oddly on Edelgard's hair, turning the usual bone white into an inviting myriad of shades, ranging from a soft yellow to a bright flames red in a matter of half seconds. It's really difficult to tell though, when all Ingrid wants to do is to just look away. Somewhere far away from that unflinching, violet gaze that feels almost threatening. 

"May I have this dance?" She asks Ingrid with the usual level of politeness for such events, but like everything else when it comes to Edelgard there is nothing soft about it. 

That is something Ingrid envies in her, if she's to be honest with herself. Not having to soften up her natural stance when talking to others, body posture straight and ready for anything. Edelgard does not bow, be to King or fellow men. She will be Emperor someday and there is no movement to her body that is not filled with power.

"It'd be my pleasure, Your Highness" is all Ingrid can say before the silence stretches for far too long and Edelgard withdraws her offer. It's with a start that Ingrid realizes that, for all the unnatural fluster that she still doesn't know the real cause of, she doesn't want to let this chance pass by. Even if it's only for one night, Ingrid wants to forget all about her father, and money, and Crests and men she will never love.

So Ingrid extends a hand of her own, marvelling at how short the future ruler of the Empire is, how she fits perfectly with her hand pressing over Ingrid's waist. The softness she could never feel in Edelgard's words is now materialized under Ingrid's palms and it is startlingly warm, surprisingly human. 

And so Ingrid sighs, taking away all the accumulated stress she's held within until all that remains is the circles she and Edelgard spins all over the room.

* * *

Ingrid is still seventeen but already a few hours older. 

She's snuck away with the one woman set to free all of Fódlan, although Ingrid is not aware of that part yet. All she knows is that after a few glasses of champagne they've finally managed to escape Vestra's keen eyes and even that was probably out of duty to Edelgard than any real skill either of them might possess. 

They're on top of the Goddess Tower, and although Ingrid is aware of the rumors it's still a shock when Edelgard says "let's make a promise". For once they're not particularly close, even if they had danced more than four different songs together before their feet claimed for mercy. Also, for all that they're in completely separate houses, it is something of an open secret that neither Edelgard or Hubert are particularly devout.

The surprise must show on her face because Edelgard laughs. 

"I am aware there are many things separating us, Ingrid. I cannot call you a dear or even close friend, and I am sure the same can be said about me on your end." Edelgard breathes in, and Ingrid can feel the way she's steeling herself from what she'll have to say next. "Many machinations seem to be at work here at the Monastery lately, Remire village being only the last of many bizarre incidents. I feel as though an invisible thread could snap at any moment, throwing us all into chaos. As such, I do not wish to leave with any regrets."

The moonlight streams in from the Tower's window, returning Edelgard's hair to its snow white complexion. Ingrid is still unsure as to why she is the only one of many to be chosen to have this conversation. Perhaps Edelgard has already talked about this to all of her housemates and is simply going through the other Houses one person at a time.

Or perhaps Ingrid isn't the only one to see a part of herself in another woman. So she leans in and so does Edelgard, their lips meeting in a sweet burst of satisfaction and bubbly alcohol. They part after another chaste press of secrets that can never be exchanged and Edelgard is smiling, her eyes open, taking everything in. 

Ingrid smiles back. And this time, she means it. 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/faedinand) here! 
> 
> also please leave a review on your way out! i really appreciate them


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